


Blood in the Moonlight

by VictoriaAGrey



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Cannibalism, Domestic Bliss, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Running Away Together, Sexual Content, Will takes care of Hannibal, hannibal loves it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 05:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4864130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaAGrey/pseuds/VictoriaAGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The dead weight of Hannibal in his arms reminded Will that this was one of the outcomes he had planned for; a soundless murder-suicide where they were both lost to the ocean’s depths. But he couldn’t allow them to be snuffed out now, not while he still had breath left in his lungs.</p>
<p>Not after he saw how brightly they could burn together.</p>
<p>///Picks up directly after the fall and covers until just after the Bedelia luau leg dinner.///</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood in the Moonlight

The Atlantic Ocean enveloped him in sudden, cold silence. His cheek flared painfully as salt water seeped into the gash left behind by the Dragon’s prosthetic claw and his various other injuries smarted in agony. Throbbing stab wounds and the shock of his abrupt impact with the ocean caused him to gasp in a mouthful, water bubbling innocuously before his face as he struggled to orient himself enough to begin pushing for the surface.

Arms wrapped lovingly around him like the snakes of a caduceus began to sag and lose their hold around his waist. Memory crashed into him then, reminding him of why he was in the frigid Atlantic and who his arms were tightly coiled around. The dead weight of Hannibal in his arms reminded Will that this was one of the outcomes he had planned for; a soundless murder-suicide where they were both lost to the ocean’s depths. But he couldn’t allow them to be snuffed out now, not while he still had breath left in his lungs.

Not after he saw how brightly they could burn together.

Doubling his efforts, Will clasped his arms tightly around Hannibal’s chest and pulled him close as he kicked his legs with all the strength he could muster. The surface seemed to get farther and farther away as he swam upwards and didn’t breach the surface. Panic flooded his senses as Hannibal failed to move and his need for oxygen pressed down on his lungs. Maybe he had accomplished his goal: Hannibal was dead. God, he hoped not. If he was well and truly dead, he was supposed to die with him. Neither could live in a world where the other did not exist. He thought he could, once upon a time, but not anymore.

Wintry, crisp air greeted Will’s face as he broke through the ocean’s oppressive hold. Coughing out the water in his mouth, he took a deep breath and the ache in his lungs subsided. As he treaded through the heavy salt water, he pulled Hannibal’s face up to his to check for any signs of life and found nothing. “Shit,” he mumbled to himself as he secured him under an arm and began swimming for the cliff face, which looked to be no more than ten yards away. Hannibal’s weight would have been hard enough to swim with if he was healthy, but he wasn’t. The warm dripping sensation on his face was a constant reminder of what he had been through not ten minutes past.

Grasping the cliff face after what felt like hours rather than minutes, he took a firm hold around Hannibal’s ribs and heaved him up with the intention of keeping him above water until he could quickly formulate a way to potentially revive him. Shock and relief briefly loosened his fingers on the jagged stone he was holding onto as Hannibal coughed up water. His breaths came in unevenly as he attempted to stabilize his breathing, burying his face in Will’s neck and clutching at his sides. Will found a strange comfort in feeling his legs kick alongside his.

“Scared me there for a minute,” he informed him as he looked around them to determine their odds of getting out of there alive.

Hannibal’s chuckles buffeted the air around his neck. “I believe you have stolen my line.”

Mirth filled Will at Hannibal’s quip, thinking he could be quite funny when he wanted to be. Looking north and south, he wondered which way would give them the best odds of survival.

“South,” Hannibal told him as he disengaged from his side, leaving Will much colder there than he thought he should be. “There’s a cave less than a quarter mile that way with a boat inside.”

“You hid a boat inside a cave?”

“More like a dinghy, but it will suffice.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

Casting Will a knowing glance, he replied, “Then your plan will have worked after all.”

Glowering at him, Will followed the man who swam as if he didn’t have a through and through bullet wound trickling blood into the choppy waters lapping around them.

~~~

Sitting in a waiting area inside a private hospital, Will lamented their lack of new reading materials to distract himself with. Here Hannibal was, paying an obscene amount of money to keep their names and procedures off the books, and they couldn’t be bothered to provide up-to-date magazines and medical journals? It struck him as absurd and sent a surprising surge of malicious intent through his frayed nerves. Couldn’t they at least give him the remote to the television? The last thing he wanted to do right now was watch Donald Trump’s rotund face spout off about politics. Noticing the television again though, he recognized that it was brand new, cellophane wrapping still clinging along some of the edges. Brand new expensive television mounted on the wall and months outdated magazines. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

“Mr. Marin, there you are,” said a pretty blonde nurse, Annabelle if her nametag was to be trusted, as she walked into the room. “Why did you leave your bed?”

“I don’t like hospital rooms.”

“Is there something wrong with your accommodations?”

Annabelle’s eyes, a warm chestnut brown, shone brightly with such earnestness that he briefly wondered if she knew who she was talking to. Those who didn’t know spoke to him like that, as if he were a perfectly reasonable and approachable human being. Then you have those who do know who he is and the last thing they want to do is be in the same zip code as him, nevertheless the same room. If she didn’t know, which was a realistic possibility, then her treatment of him made sense. But if she did know, then she was better at hiding her instinctive revulsion and fear at being in the presence of someone like him. He supposed though that if she worked in a hospital such as this, she had likely encountered worse clientele than him.

“No, they’re fine.”

“Then would you mind coming back with me, please? Dr. Addams really was insistent that you not be up and about for a few more hours at least.”

Accepting defeat, he took her proffered hand and pulled himself up to his feet. Grabbing the drip stand beside him, which was keeping him hydrated and very much pain free, he began wheeling it towards the door when the headline “HANNIBAL THE CANNIBAL ESCAPES FBI CUSTODY” flashed across the screen.

“I was wondering how long it would take the news to break.”

Ah. So she did know who he was. “Took longer than I’d thought.”

Will watched as she slipped her thin fingers behind the television, turning up the sound in time so they could listen to the bulletin.

“As of midday yesterday, Hannibal Lecter, more colloquially known as Hannibal the Cannibal or the Chesapeake Ripper, escaped FBI custody by brutally murdering six police officers and three FBI agents. It is believed that he was being used as bait in an FBI scheme to lure out Francis Dolarhyde aka the Tooth Fairy, notorious killer of the Leeds and Jacobi families, who we are told was also found dead early this morning at an undisclosed location.” At this point, Will was almost tempted to walk away from the news anchor who was close to frothing at the mouth in excitement, when he heard his own name.

“Noticeably absent from the carnage was Will Graham, the disgraced FBI profiler who was originally assigned to capture the Chesapeake Ripper, but befriended him instead. In recent weeks he has been seen entering the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane where Lecter was scheduled to be held for life after being found not guilty by reason of insanity in thirteen murders, one of which was Mason Verger, the heir of the Verger meat packing dynasty. No trace of Lecter or Graham has been found as of the top of this hour, but a source in the FBI tells us that it is likely Graham used his position as a consultant on the Tooth Fairy case to help orchestrate Lecter’s escape.”

The light touch of a nail briefly trailing up the back of his hand made him look towards Annabelle, who looked far more nonplussed by who she was standing with than she should be. It discomfited him to think about what she may have seen during the course of her career that instilled such an unflappable exterior.

“If I may be so bold, killing all those agents wasn’t a smart move.”

“We didn’t,” he responded, seeing no reason for subterfuge in light of her clearly knowing who he and Hannibal are.

“They couldn’t have killed themselves.”

Huffing out a breath of amusement, he looked into her eyes and saw the same chilly black humor him and Hannibal possessed. There was a story there, lurking beneath the surface and he briefly entertained the notion of digging deeper to know it. “Hannibal may be good, but he’s not inciting-nine-people-to-commit-suicide-in-thirty-minutes good. Six of which weren’t even in the van.”

“But you were.”

“Yes.”

“Did you help him escape?”

And there laid the double-edged sword he willingly fell on. He didn’t want Hannibal lose, but seeing him in that cell, dignified but reduced to a shadow of his former glory, hurt him in ways he couldn’t count on. Try as he did, he couldn’t find justice in Hannibal being institutionalized. Justified in terms of the law, absolutely. But justified in knowing what it did to his soul to send him there and see the results, no. Seeing Hannibal reminded him that for the last three years he had essentially been standing still, fortifying the bubble around him with a readymade family; one which Hannibal had already attempted to give him. He positively drowned himself in domesticity with Molly and Walter, and still it occasionally chaffed on him like the wool of a bad suit. It was as if he were always waiting for the siren call of his old habits, the ones which would ultimately lead him back into the arms of his own personal devil; arms he so adoringly walked into.

“I did what I had to do.”

Nodding, Annabelle turned back to the television in time to see the anchor gleefully announce that Freddie Lounds would be in-studio for an exclusive interview after the commercial break. Not caring for the condition of his hand or the television, he shoved his fingers around the back of it and turned it off. They stayed silent and unmoving until she pointedly cleared her throat.

“I could get you a tablet, if you like. You can keep up with the news that way.”

“Thank you.”

“Then if you would be so kind as to follow me back to your room, Mr. Marin, I can do that for you.”

That lovely lilt she had to her voice didn’t even so much as stumble over the name they both knew was false. Her delicate hand rested on his shoulder as she led him down the corridor he had wandered through. Arriving back in his room, she made sure he was back under the covers before she turned to leave, but stopped herself just as her feet turned in the direction of the door.

“Aren’t you curious about how your friend is?”

“He’ll live.”

He knew he had to sound remarkably insensitive saying something like that when the condition of said friend was critical when they arrived, but to him it was just a fact. The sky is blue. Water is wet.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’m alive.”

Sleep overcame him after that and the next few days fell away in a similar blur. Voices were distant echoes and examination rooms were four walls which couldn’t contain him and his drifting mind. Surface wounds were stitched closed and his blood replenished. The surgery to his cheek was declared a success, leaving behind only a thin line which was bound to scar but not too badly. By the end of the day, he was set to be discharged. Within the next few minutes, Hannibal was to be awakened from his medically induced coma.

The leather upholstered seat creaked beneath his weight as he sat in the chair next to his bed, waiting for the doctors to remove everything except the saline and morphine drips. Once they finished, he was yet again left in silence with his friend. Slow hands on the clock face on Hannibal’s bedside seemed to mock him. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Minutes passed before muscles in Hannibal’s hands began to twitch and his face scrunched up, as if he were trying to regain feeling in it. Fluttering eyelashes slowly opened to reveal red-flecked brown eyes that looked impossibly perceptive and sharp. When they looked towards him, they seemed to shine.

“You’re still here.”

Will felt his lips pull downward into a slight frown. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Five days head start from what I can tell,” Hannibal answered as he gingerly ran a hand through the stubble on his face. “Plenty of time to get away.”

Before he could reply, the door to his room opened and Dr. Addams walked in. In his heavily accented voice, he patiently explained to them why the severity of Hannibal’s wounds warranted a medically induced coma - “Perforated liver and kidney. Tricky operation, that. We’re lucky you pulled through, Mr. Sokolov.” – and how his recovery was sufficient enough that he could be released within the next forty-eight hours if there were no setbacks. Will appreciated the brusque and clinical delivery as much as he’s sure Hannibal did; both knowing that he likely knew he was speaking to Dr. Lecter rather than Mr. Sokolov. When he excused himself without much preamble, Hannibal looked towards the ceiling.

“He knows.”

“He should. Our faces are everywhere. Willful ignorance right now would require living under a rock.”

“What story is Jack spinning for us?”

“That we’re cop killers,” Will scoffed, his voice akin to razor sharp teeth. “I killed the agents in the van, let you out, and together we killed the cops. The Dragon was a tool we used to cement our alliance. And, depending on which channel you watch, we are either dead, fucking in the Caribbean, or on a killing spree.”

“Not terribly creative. I expected more of Jack.”

Against his better intentions, Will laughed. Hannibal’s small smile warmed Will and the tightly wound ball in his gut that had been festering for days seemed to loosen and toil away into useless threads.

“Not creative, but effective. Those who think we’re alive have begun a witch hunt for us.”

“This tall tale of Jack’s will not last long.”

“I give it a month, at the most. It’s only a matter of time before the dashcam footage of Dolarhyde killing the cops and agents leaks.”

“Which will show how strong and skilled he was.”

“Leading everyone to wonder how we overcame him.”

“And such speculation will lead them to the conclusion that we didn’t.”

“Succumbed to his wounds after chucking us off the cliff,” Will finished, enjoying the easy flow guiding them through the hypothetical. “How do you feel about being declared dead within a month?”

“Better than I do about being actually dead and presumed alive.”

There was no bite to Hannibal’s words, but there might as well have been. He was feeling out where they stood with each other; whether Will would be there for him when he left, kill him at his earliest convenience, or turn him loose and never look back. Will was in a position to take which ever path he chose and Hannibal would have no way of influencing him into another one. It was intoxicating knowing he possessed so much power over Hannibal, but there was a part of Will that was profoundly tired. He’d lived a life free of Hannibal for three years, battling only with the mental residue of his sway, and everyday he had to consciously push him away, leaving him with a dull ache in his chest. Knowing what it was to live without him made the decision easier to make, but no less difficult to accept. That plunge into the ocean, into the deep darkness that awaited, was his final attempt to extricate himself from Hannibal in a way that would kill him but not leave behind a walking body like his previous attempt.

“I figured you’d like that. Still haunting the world even after you’ve passed into the veil.”

“No pleasure to be had if I’m not here to see it.”

It didn’t take someone with keen observational skills to notice that Hannibal was fighting the fatigue washing over him. His eyes were drooping and his words began to weave together, accent thick and more apparent in exhaustion. The humanness of such physical weakness was jarring, reminding him that Hannibal was mortal beneath everything he hid himself behind. In the face of such tiredness, Will stood and approached the side of his bed, taking in his uniquely beautiful visage which still captivated him even now in its drained paleness.

“Sleep. If you don’t behave, they may not let you go.”

Before he could second guess himself, he gently glided the tips of his fingers across Hannibal’s cold palm, reveling in the feel of his skin touching his. His finger tips tingled as they brushed across his lifeline and other creases. Hannibal kept still, but his eyes told Will that he was eager to reach out and touch for himself, to know the lay of Will’s hands as well as he knew his mind. With one last glance over his face, Will squeezed his hand and saw himself out.

~~~

There were times when Will deliberately lied or obfuscated facts to himself if they were too difficult to accept, but now was not one of them; he was dressed for Hannibal. The tailored charcoal grey suit, black silk shirt, and black Prada oxfords all spoke to Hannibal’s sensibilities. Will inhabited them comfortably, the clothes serving as a subconscious tell to the public that he is powerful and confident with who and what he is. Hannibal liked seeing him dressed as such because of far baser reasons than what he might expound on if he were asked directly: pack mentality. He wanted the world to see them together and know on an instinctive level that they were a solid unit, two pieces that moved seamlessly together to become greater than the sum of their parts. It was a lovely sentiment, really.

The antiseptic clean smell of the hospital filled Will’s nostrils as he walked in through the private entrance and made his way towards the elevator. Once inside, he hit the button for the sixth floor and placed his hands back inside his trouser pockets. In the past two days, he hadn’t contacted Hannibal, not even when he initially got released a few hours after Hannibal was woken up. The time upon release was an accident, he had gone by his room to tell him he was declared healthy enough to be discharged but he was still asleep and he saw no reason to wake him. After that, it was part conscious effort, part not. He was busy finding a way to secure Hannibal and himself a hideaway that they could sustain until Hannibal had recovered - which was time consuming - but there was also a part of him which remained resolutely hesitant. If he ran away with Hannibal, there was no going back. No groveling to Molly and Walter to allow him back. No convincing Jack that it was all an elaborate set up to kill Hannibal and everything he stood for. Redemption in the eyes of polite society would no longer be feasible. His decision was made for him when he was getting sized for his suit and he saw a plaid one which complimented his new acquisition. It wasn’t nearly as ostentatious as some of the suits Hannibal used to wear, but it was a call back to what he used to know and secretly enjoyed. He gave the tailor Hannibal’s measurements and bought the suit, knowing Hannibal would understand the deeper meaning behind the gesture when he received them at the hospital.

Stepping out of the elevator and heading towards Hannibal’s room, Will felt himself fill with anticipation. As soon as he laid eyes on Hannibal, the life he clung to would end and the rest of his life would begin. It was far more terrifying a prospect than hurling himself off a cliff to his almost certain death.

“Hello, Will.”

Hannibal stepped out of the open bathroom and into the entrance of his room, where Will had leaned against the doorframe. Will was satisfied to see that he had gotten Hannibal’s measurements correct. He was quite a sight now, carrying himself strongly and with recovered color in his face.

“Hello, Hannibal.”

“This is a beautiful suit you have procured for me. Dare I ask if the tailor of such a splendid piece is still alive?”

Will chuckled as he watched him slip his arms into the overcoat he also bought for him, the only outward sign that he wasn’t completely healthy; he would be incredibly susceptible to the cold and would need the added layer. “I know who the tailor for the Corleone family is.”

“The crime family?”

“Yeah. I figured you needed a suit and he knows how to keep his mouth shut.”

“You also figured out how to tap into our funds.”

Warmth spread through Will at Hannibal’s use of the word “our.” Evidently he did get the intended gesture behind the suit. “Getting into the hospital’s financial records wasn’t exactly difficult. Account is under your uncle Robertus’ name. The code was my birth year. You’re so far from subtle I’m surprised you weren’t caught until I came along.”

With the final button of his overcoat fastened, Hannibal approached Will and stood squarely in his personal space, looming over him like a specter in the night. “I’ve never been caught,” he replied in a tone that shouldn’t even remotely sound as if it were approaching seductive.

“No, but you are ensnared,” he retorted. The air between them became charged and electric, like the still turbulent skies after a vicious storm. This connection had always been there between them, it’s what drew him back for his second session and inspired him to entrench himself deeper into his life. He lived for this feeling and he often craved it, whether it be in the sparkling sunshine or the dead of night. “Are you ready?”

“Very.”

Crooking his arm, he offered it to Hannibal who readily curled his arm through his and clasped his hands over Will’s elbow. He didn’t mistake it for anything less than possessive and he smiled at the thought that it was likely just a peek into how demonstrably affectionate Hannibal would be in their new life together. After a quick wave to Annabelle, signing of discharge papers, and a thank you to Dr. Addams for his work, Will escorted Hannibal to the SUV with heavily tinted windows waiting for them outside. Informing Hannibal that he got it for them so he could rest in the backseat on the way to their temporary home, Hannibal promptly ignored him and sat in the passenger seat. Inwardly bemoaning his recalcitrance, Will climbed into the driver’s seat and began their journey.

Hours of driving and an incalculable amount of concertos later, they arrived at their destination.

“Nobody bought it,” Will answered without first being questioned. “It would seem that even the type of people who get off on owning things from serial killers don’t want the place where they did the actual killing.”

The Hobbs cabin was the perfect place to hide. It was long abandoned, so no one would be coming by anytime soon and it was hidden at the very end of a winding trail in the woods. There was no threat of them being inconvenienced by being discovered. The privacy of the cabin would even allow them to take walks through the woods if they wanted. Hannibal seemed to notice the practicality of the location because he wordlessly nodded and opened the door to climb out, but was stopped when pain unexpectedly lanced through him at the sideways motion.

“Jesus, just hold on a second,” Will insisted as he got out of the SUV and went to Hannibal’s side, taking his hands in his to support him. “You need to be more careful. We can’t have you ripping your stitches.”

“Yes. If you will recall, I am a doctor,” he sharply reminded him as he used Will for support to get his feet on the ground from his elevated seat in the SUV.

“Then you should remember that sitting in a stagnant position like that for hours on end isn’t good for you. I told you to lie in the backseat.”

“I didn’t want to lie in the backseat.”

Rolling his eyes at the pointlessness of the argument, Will steadied Hannibal with his left arm slung around his lower back, clasping it above his hip as his right hand held Hannibal’s in front of his chest. “Amuse me by letting me help you.”

“If you insist.”

Guiding them to the front door, Will let go of his hold on Hannibal when he had to fish in his jacket pocket for the key to the new lock he’d installed yesterday. Hannibal’s presence beside him stayed close once he opened the door and walked into the largely open space. The stale scent of non-occupancy had been replaced with the clean smell of trees and open air after he’d aired the cabin out for two days. Fresh groceries and a few supplemental pots and pans were added to the spartan kitchen in the corner; not of the same caliber Hannibal would use, but good enough for him to not even passive-aggressively complain about as he inspected them. A loveseat and TV were placed towards the front of the space, if for no other reason than so they could keep up with the news and have somewhere else to sit besides the bed and table chairs.

The bed, tucked away in the only closed off space in the cabin, had been completely replaced. The frame for the king-sized bed was simple with a tufted headboard and footboard. Egyptian cotton sheets covered the soft mattress. A thick royal blue comforter acted as the focal point which pulled the whole tasteful neutral color scheme together. Will knew he’d done well when Hannibal ran a hand over the blanket at the foot of the bed with a gentle smile he’d seen only a handful of times, the one he wore when he was truly happy. He knew a part of that smile likely belonged to the fact that Hannibal enjoyed the thought of them sleeping together, whether innocently or not.  For now it would be chaste, he wasn’t quite ready enough for them to know each other in the biblical sense, but they didn’t need that. It would be a nice addition once they were again in peak physical condition, but for now, their mental ties would satisfy their need for connection and belonging.

New books lined the modest bookcase because, god forbid, Hannibal be cooped up somewhere without books. Some books he enjoyed were there as well, but he doubted he would have much time to devote to the task when there were arrangements to be made for when they ultimately left and ran for Europe together, not to mention day-to-day upkeep of the cabin.

“This is lovely, Will. Thank you,” Hannibal expressed appreciatively, yanking Will out of his reverie.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll make us dinner, shall I?”

And with that, they fell into a routine which lasted their month and a half long stay. Hannibal cooked all their meals and Will cleaned up afterwards. Cutting wood for the small fireplace was left to Will as Hannibal dusted and swept. Walks through the woods together at sunset were a daily occurrence. Both took up yoga and running to return their bodies to a fit state, comfort weight melting off of them to be replaced by lean muscle. Nights were spent watching the news, Hannibal often taking the opportunity to massage Will’s feet, before they retired to bed together. It was a pleasant life, one which once saw Will jokingly call out “Honey, I’m home,” much to Hannibal’s faked chagrin, when he came home from running errands.

When it came to updates on their case, they had been right in most respects to what would happen. The dashcam footage of Dolarhyde killing the cops the day of their escape was leaked, with Jack excusing the lie about Hannibal and Will killing the cops by saying the video had been corrupted until recently. The media began to speculate that they had indeed been killed by the Dragon once forensics proved that they had each lost a tremendous amount of blood, resulting in the public not being in a perpetual frenzy that a cannibal and his boyfriend would break into their house at night to eat them alive. One thing they did have wrong though was that Jack refused to declare them dead. It wasn’t too shocking a development, he’d want to see bodies no matter how much blood they lost, and in the end it didn’t trouble them much. If the public was settling down, it didn’t matter what he did or didn’t declare; they would become less alert, making it easier for them to move around and leave the country unnoticed.

At the end of their stay, Hannibal and Will stood just outside the front door in quiet observance over the cabin which served as their safe haven. They would never see it again and Will had silently requested a moment to allay this particular ghost to rest, once and for all.

Laying his palm flat against the door, Will closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Goodbye, Abigail.”

He felt Hannibal place a hand on his shoulder in support, then the tips of his forefinger and thumb overlap his on the door. With a squeeze of his shoulder, Hannibal let go and left him to have his final moments with this last existing piece of Abigail. Only as he opened his eyes and walked away from the door did Will finally feel at peace with the memory of his surrogate daughter.

“Are you ready?” Hannibal inquired as Will took his seat behind the wheel of their SUV and turned the key.

Will glanced into the backseat then, looking into the glaring eyes of Bedelia as she uselessly struggled against her restraints. Her efforts were futile though, she was heavily drugged and wasn’t likely to get far if she did get loose, what with her missing a leg and all. What made her think she could get away now after being held in the antler room during their whole stay was beyond him. He smiled at her, cloyingly sweet and mocking.

“Absolutely.”

Bedelia, in her haste to get out of town with Hannibal on the loose, had set up the perfect foundation for her own disappearance. She had canceled all lectures pertaining to her time abroad with Hannibal, canceled appointments with the few patients she had taken on, and met with Jack to inform him that she was leaving, much like last time, except she wasn’t going to leave behind a way for them to find her. And Jack had believed her because he had no reason to doubt her. Too bad that Will had gotten released from the hospital a few hours before she officially pulled up stakes and became untraceable. Timing really is of the essence when you’re trying to avoid homicidal cannibals.

A buzz of anticipation swam through him as they drove back to Bedelia’s, the place Hannibal chose to indulge in the present Will had given him. Once they arrived, they parked inside her garage and moved her now unconscious form into the house. Her leg had already been prepared luau-style back at the cabin after Hannibal took great pleasure in removing it, so all he had to do now was prepare the side dishes and dessert. The red wine Will had chosen to sip on as he watched Hannibal move within his natural milieu was delicious, Hannibal agreeing with a hum after he stole a sip.

For the first time in a long while, Will felt a pang of jealousy when Hannibal departed the room to prepare Bedelia for dinner. Just the mere thought of him undressing her, slipping her into the dress he chose for her before he did her makeup and hair how she preferred for formal occasions made his hindbrain spark in a primal, territorial way. Logically and emotionally he knew Hannibal’s touches wouldn’t be passionate, the only passion he had for her now was for the meat that clung to her bones, but knowing he’d previously been with her irritated him. All the assurances in the world wouldn’t have quelled his ire.

What he was entertained by was Bedelia’s attempt to stab him in the neck with a fork when he entered the dining room and approached her to tell her that she looked beautiful. He knew she didn’t appreciate his quip about how he shouldn’t be playing with his food, but Hannibal’s laughter was all he needed.

“Naughty naughty, Bedelia,” Hannibal condescendingly chastised as he served her a portion of her leg, as well as a broth of oysters, acorns, and marsala. “Where have your manners gone?”

Will spun the fork he took from her between his fingers at the opposite end of the table. “Yes, that was quite rude of you.”

She looked furiously in his direction, or at least as furiously as her drugged system allowed her to.

“Sleeping with the devil,” she slurred at him, tone dripping with malevolence. “And to think I once assumed you weren’t stupid enough.”

“You know what they say about assuming.”

Dinner passed relatively uneventfully after that, with the notable exception of her eating the portion of her leg Hannibal served her, making the gesture seem spiteful in the face of his pride at having prepared such a stunning feast. In all fairness, it was delicious and perhaps the best dinner Hannibal had prepared for him yet. When he told him so, his delight was evident in the raised color of his cheeks.

After stowing Bedelia away in one of her spare bedrooms, Hannibal and Will began cleaning up the kitchen. There was a certain measure of hesitance to be felt there when he saw the amount of pots and pans that went into making such a massive dinner.

“I’ll clean up, if you like,” Hannibal kindly said as he saw Will’s wide-eyed horror at the task. “You’ve done enough today.”

“Pretty sure cleaning this up alone would equate to punishment. You wash, I’ll dry.”

Well practiced synchronicity followed then as Hannibal washed all of Bedelia’s dishes with care and Will dried, placing them all back as he went. It was only when they finally saw an end in sight that Will spoke as he put away the serving plates.

“I did try to kill us.”

Hannibal sounded wholly unimpressed as he washed forks. “I know.”

“I wanted to stop this from happening, from becoming this.”

“This is what you were meant to become.”

“I know.”

Hannibal did stop then, turning off the water and drying his hands on the towel next to him. He turned to face Will, who was leaning with his back against the kitchen island. His posture mirrored his as he leaned against the counter in front of the sink with rapt attention.

“What I was when you met me wasn’t sustainable. I was already self-destructing, brain tearing itself apart. Killing Garret Jacob Hobbs signed my own death warrant.”

“This isn’t a death warrant, Will. This is life, perhaps not the one you envisioned for yourself, but it is great and filled with promise.”

“What promise is there, Hannibal?”

Will watched him purse his lips, thinking on his question. “That you will live life by your own whims. Society will hold no bearing on you and your mind will only serve to aid you on your pursued path.”

“What promises do I have from you?”

It was a question that had been nagging at Will in the weeks since they began cohabitating. He could see Hannibal’s devotion, feel it in the way his hand occasionally clasped his while they slept, but he needed to hear what he should expect from him. Was what simmered between them a flame that burned brightly before fizzling out, or a fine wine that got better with age?

“I will be everything you need me to be.”

“Is that what it means for you to be in love?”

For the first time during their conversation, Hannibal’s gaze faltered. He looked to the ground near Will’s feet and lightly nodded his head. “Yes.”

Emotion overcame Will then. Now knowing that the feelings he felt and thought he reflected on Hannibal, projecting onto him what _he_ felt but wasn’t returned, left him feeling buoyant and happy. They could become something wonderful together. Conquer this world and forever alter its landscape. He wanted that with him, wanted them to have that together.

Approaching Hannibal, he held out his hand and laid it on his cheek, caressing the sharp cheekbone. His eyes lifted then, connecting with his in such a way that electricity thrummed between them, familiar but radically different from all the times before.  Will leaned in half way then, knowing Hannibal would meet him the rest of the way.

His lips were tender and desperate all at once. Will had dreamed of this moment before, in the abstract and in vivid technicolor, but he could never account for what Hannibal would be like then. The hands on his sides just under his ribs squeezed in appreciation and desire. He almost purred when Will held his face in his hands as he adjusted their lips. It was exquisite and Will wanted to take this situation and spin it on its head, shock Hannibal when he was too enamored to see the cogs turning inside the bone arena of his skull.

Will sucked Hannibal’s bottom lip between his own and bit down.

The surprised gasp he emitted was better than any concerto he’d ever heard. Rising to his bait, Hannibal pressed in harder and glided his tongue along Will’s bottom lip, asking for invitation. Will obliged knowing he was about to entirely lose control of the situation.

Hannibal kissed like he’d planned for this and knew exactly what to do to drive Will crazy. He spun them around and pushed Will into the side of the counter with a press of his hips, making it known to both of them how turned on they were. Rocking into him, he kissed him deeply and with ardor Will returned once he regained some of the ground he lost. He then moved to his neck, sucking and biting at it until he had Will shaking.

“Hannibal,” he moaned, tangling his hand in his hair to keep him there.

Not to be hindered, Hannibal abruptly dropped to his knees and began unbuttoning Will’s trousers. Will had to grip the edge of the counter in a vise-grip to keep himself from crumbling to pieces before him.

At the first touch of Hannibal’s hand on his dick, Will groaned and looked down to see Hannibal looking up at him through heavily lidded eyes. Taking that as his cue, Hannibal opened his mouth and slowly brought Will towards his mouth. A part of him didn’t want to look at the agonizingly intimate moment, but a much louder part of him had to see it. When the head entered his mouth and Hannibal hummed, Will had to lock his knees in place to not fall on top of him.

Hannibal’s tongue lapped around the head, trailing over the slit and sliding down to the sensitive spot where the head connected with the shaft. He then slid his mouth down the whole way, taking Will completely in his mouth and throat. It felt so good, bliss rippling through him uncontrollably, that Will told his sense of propriety to go to hell and he gripped Hannibal’s hair between his fingers and kept him there. Both groaned loudly at the show of dominance, Hannibal’s groan travelling up his dick and making him shake harder. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

Using his grip in his hair, Will pulled his hair back and Hannibal got the message. He started moving his mouth quickly over him and gripped his hips tight enough for Will to contemplate bruises. It was all so much and he felt the end approaching faster than he could have predicted.

“Hannibal,” he growled, voice trembling. “Hannibal, I’m going to come.”

Hardly expecting him to pull off, Will was still taken off guard when Hannibal bared down and took him in completely again, moaning as he did so. Looking down at him then, seeing his lips shiny and his face lax in ecstasy, Will came with a cry that Hannibal seemed to absorb into his own pleasure, an endless cycle of reciprocated desire.

Once he came down from his high, Hannibal pulled off of him and tucked him back into his trousers, zipping and buttoning them back up. Will decided to take the moment to be selfish and luxuriate in the vibrant feel of his blood pumping furiously through him in concert with the endorphins drowning his brain. Hannibal’s lips trailing along the shell of his ear reminded him that he was the only satisfied party. Dazedly reaching down, he felt Hannibal’s dick through his trousers, hard and wanting.

“Not tonight,” Hannibal said as he gently took Will’s hand in his, away from where he should have wanted it. “Let me have this.”

Will could hardly deny him when he sounded so loving and content. “Okay. I’m going to shower.”

“I’ll finish the dishes.”

Opening his eyes, he looked at Hannibal and smiled. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything more gorgeous than Hannibal now; all mussed hair, plump red lips, and flushed skin. Will was sure it was a look he’d crave to see. Repeatedly and often.

“I’ll see you in bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fingers crossed that I'm not too late to the post-Wrath of the Lamb fanfic party!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed your read <3
> 
> Questions? Comments? Requests? Visit me at my Tumblr (mycroft-silently-judges-you.tumblr.com)  
> Thank you!


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